Travelin' Soldier
by Just Cy
Summary: Elliot Grant is a young soldier on his way to boot camp at the start of the Vietnam War. A stop on the way puts him in a cafe where he meets a waitress Bridgette Verdant. They exchange letters & sorrows through the war in hopes of seeing each other again.


**Okay, so this is an AU in which Ryou is an American soldier during the Vietnam War (so this is going to take place in 1955). I made Ryou America since I'm unaware of the Japanese military workings and that puts this in the United States. I also used dubbed names, because, again, this takes place in the U.S.**

** I think the rest of it's pretty straight-forward. This is going to be a two-shot as that is the cut-off for the contest iTaffy.G is holding. This is an entry in that contest. Oh, it's also loosely based off of Travelin' Soldier by the Dixie Chicks, thus the title.**

Elliot Grant gets off the bus after an eight hour leg of the trip that's a little over half a day in the making. He wants to stop here on his way to Naval Air Facility El Centro, California, as it's his grandfather's hometown. Since his grandfather was the start of the military tradition in his family it seems appropriate to stop here. So here he is, thirteen hours from his home in Sparta, Tennessee, in Port Arthur, Texas. The buses (and a cab or two) had gotten him here fine so far. He still has three days to get somewhere only a day away so he's fine with a little tourism. He picks up his duffel bag and looks for a place to explore.

While walking around, he notices his uniform feels a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it's because he's still getting used to wearing green again. He's still getting used to the idea of already being away from his family. He's only just turned eighteen, this is insane, right? He sighs, and looks at his watch.

There's a café down that street that looks quaint, so he heads down the cobblestone street and waits to be seated in a booth. Looking over the menu, he really isn't sure what he wants, but coffee and a pie seems like a safe choice, he's certain. He taps his foot and drums his fingers on the table impatiently waiting for a server to come take his order. He take a deep breath; impatience is silly, and he doesn't have to be anywhere for several hours.

"My name's Bridgette and I'll be your server today," a young girl with bright green hair says with a smile. She wears a small white bow that he probably wouldn't notice were it not nearly falling out of her hair. She adjusts the thin wiry frames of her glasses as she pulls out a pad for the young soon-to-be-soldier's order. "Can I start you off with something to drink, sir?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Coffee," he says, and passing thought that she looks frightened causes a quick addition of, "thanks ma'am."

The corner of her lips upturn ever so slightly, and if he hadn't seen a flash of white he would have sworn he had imagined it, "Would you like cream and sugar?"

"Yes please," he says and returns a miniscule smile of his own.

"I'll have that right out," she said, and blood paints her cheeks the lightest of pinks with the smallest of brushes at his courtesy, while she walks away to fill other orders and leaves him to his thoughts.

She returns with his coffee, a few sugar packets, and half-and-half cream, "Here you go," she sets it down and a little sloshes out. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said and quickly wipes it up with a rag.

"It's fine," he says with a forced smile, which came across more like the flinch from the heat it was, "no harm done."

"Are you ready to order?" she asks, smoothing the front of her green and white plaid shirt with ruffles on the bodice and placing the rag in the back pocket of her denim pleated skirt.

"What sort of pie have ya got?" he asks.

She seems a little surprised, but smiles as if she knows a secret. While her hands travel to a locket, her blush darkens, "No pie today, just a Strawberry Tart and Pudding Cake."

"A Strawberry Tart sounds fine," he tells her with a nod.

She also nods and says, "I'll have that right out," and walks off again. He notices the crowd thinning out, and runs his hands through his blonde hair that won't be shaggy for much longer.

He sighs and thinks about how times like this will be less frequent. He knows the end of boot camp doesn't mean he's back with family, it means he's off to the first base he's stationed at. Many of the young people enlisting are in for a surprise, but Elliot is aware. He's an army brat, so he knows what he's getting into. He figured it didn't do to dwell on the day he had gotten the letter; that only succeeded in depressing him.

She returns with his Tart rather quickly, breaking him from his morbid trance, "I hope you enjoy it. Can I get you anything else?" she asks, careful this time not to spill anything.

He hesitates before he asked her, "Wouldya mind sitting down for a chat?" He explained in his thick drawl, "I'm feeling a little less than yer sunny disposition."

"I have a few other customers, but I'm off in an hour if you'll still be around," she offers, running her fingers through her hair.

"If that's ain't gonna be too much trouble," he says, "I'd like that very much." He finally gets a bite of his Tart.

"It's no trouble. Does everything meet with your satisfaction?" she asks the required question and receives a nod. "I'm glad," she says with a broad smile.

_~1 Hour Later~_

"Mr. Fong, my shift's over. I'm leaving!" Bridgette calls to the owner.

"Have a nice weekend, Bridgette! Are you and Pi doing anything special?" he inquires, his voice heavy with mischief.

"No, at least I don't think so. I think he has a Calculus Tournament on Sunday," she says after a moment of trying to remember.

"Well, you have fun," he said with a wave.

She walks up to Elliot, "Did you have somewhere you wanted to go to talk?"

"No, I ain't exactly from here," he explains with a nervous grimace, hoping she wouldn't mind recommending a place.

She smiles warmly at the boy, "How about we go on the pier?"

"Sound nice, Bridgette," he tells her while smiling back a relieved smile.

He follows her to an old pier that creaks when they walk, and Elliot's glad he can swim because it doesn't seem very stable, what with it shifting as they move. When the green haired girl sits down on the edge she slips off her shoes and lets her feet dangle, barely touching but nevertheless making a ripple in the water made cold by the late time in the year.

Ryou dropped his duffel bag behind him, untied the combat boots, slid off his socks and sat down with a grace previously not shown.

"Um, pardon me, but I never caught your name," Bridgette apologizes, and looks at him, the light dusting of pink on her cheeks again.

"Oh, it's Elliot, Elliot Grant," he says, he himself feeling a little sheepish at the mistake, but nevertheless offering his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Elliot," she says and shakes the offered hand, "I don't mean to pry, but you said you were feeling down, and, um, would you mind telling me what's wrong?" she looks away after she asks, and opens her mouth to apologize.

"I'm just a little unnecessarily worried. Folks died on vacation in a London bombing, so war's a little scary. 'Course that's the reason I enlisted, still…I don't really do authority, and then there's the whole constant danger thing," he feels like his babbling betrays his intelligence and high-class background, but what he can he say? He's worried.

"I don't think that's unnecessary, it makes perfect sense," she tells him, and hesitates before putting her hand on his.

"I guess I'm just thinking that my Grandpappy would tell me not ta be such a coward, an' that boys were made ta go ta war, an' that's when they either became men or died." He pauses, and then realizes, "That's really morbid," he apologizes, and shifts his hand to hold hers a little more.

She pulls it away immediately, as if she hadn't realized it was there, "Sorry," she murmurs.

"Nuttin ta be sorry for," Elliot tells her, and his dazzlingly white teeth flash at her while his eyes start to get a little more life in them.

"Oh, um," her hand goes to her locket again.

His sky blue eyes widen, and his mouth forms an "o," he understands now. "Boyfriend?" he asks.

She nods; her sapphire eyes are wide as the frames of her glasses, and her face is beet red. Her fist around the heart-shaped locket is so tight her knuckles are turning white.

"Don't matter all that much," he says, and reaches for her hands, placing them in her lap, "I was just curious."

She visibly relaxes, her shoulders settle, and eyes lessen, "His name's Pi, or that's what everyone calls him. He's a major math whiz."

"Ah, so he's an economics major?" he asks with interest.

She blushes again, "O-oh, no, I mean, he might be soon, but that's a couple years away."

"Sorry, I didn't mean ta-" he grimaces a little at his mistake. He genuinely thought she was older.

"It's okay," she says with a half-hearted smile, "I get it a lot at the café." She tries to uphold the smile.

"Are ya sure it's okay? I didn't mean ta hit a sore spot with ya," he says, not buying the forced smile.

"It's not a big deal really, just," she sighs, "some older men," she confesses while she wrings her hands.

"And yer boss," and thought of Pi emerges and he immediately corrects himself, "hell, not even him, yer _boyfriend_ allows it?"

"Oh," her eyes widen. Why does he care about what her boyfriend does? "Well," she blushes, "he doesn't know."

"While I ain't sure why ya haven't gone and told him yet, but that don't change that he ought ta come around an' see it?"

"No, he doesn't come to the café. He doesn't see a reason to," she says, and, realizing how bad it sounds, looks away.

"No offense, but he sounds like an asshole," Elliot tells her, looking hard at her, hoping she'll look back.

This catches her attention and she looks directly at him while sputtering, "What makes you say-I mean why?"

"He's yer boyfriend but from what ya've said he don't seem to care about ya at all. I mean, I guess he gave ya that there necklace, but-"

"He didn't actually," she quickly corrects. "The locket was from my Grandfather, he thought it would be sweet rather than embarrassing to get me a locket when I got into my first relationship, so yeah, I do associate it with Pi, but..." she leaves the comment hanging and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"Does he have _any_ redeeming qualities?" Elliot gapes at that bit of information.

"He's really very, brilliant, and he'd be better at socializing if he wasn't so independent. He just," she bites her lip before she continues, "he just doesn't let people in, I wish he did, and I try really hard, " she smiles for a moment at a passing thought, "I wish I did better, but the best I do is when I play piccolo."

"Sounds ta me like you're too good for him," Elliot says. She opens her mouth to protest, her face aflame, but he cuts her off, "and I don't wanna hear ya say otherwise."

If it was possible for her face to get any redder it did, "Thank you for the thought, you seem to be the only one."

"I highly doubt that," he tells her and bites his lip before he asks, "I may be stepping over my boundaries, but can I have yer address. It'd be nice to send ya a letter."

"Oh, I-I don't know what to say," she stutters with a flattered grin.

"Then say yes. I'd like to know a little more about ya, make sure yer okay since yer boyfriend's incompetent. Aside from that, going away with no one to come back for ain't exactly ideal."

"What do you mean by 'no one to come back for'?" she asks with a confused stare.

"Folks are dead, all I got is my Uncle Wes; an', well, he don't much like my going off," he smiles feebly with a shrug of his shoulder.

"If he's your only family why would you-" she starts

"The way I see it - everyone believes in something. For Uncle Wes it's family, an' he don't want to lose me. For Aunt Renée it's God, an' He don't much like killing. Cousin Corina, well, I think she believes in dancin' but I can't be sure with her. But for me- it's my country, cuz it's all I got left of my folks," he explains with a proud a smile.

"Wow," Bridgette says, her eyes wide and wet.

"Sorry, I guess I went off on a bit of a tangent," he realizes and grins sheepishly.

"No, it's fine. That was beautiful," Bridgette murmurs, thinking about the profound wisdom this young man clearly has.

"I wouldn't call _that_ beautiful. Talk ain't beautiful, inspirin' maybe, but not beautiful. Real beauty is up there," he gestures to the sky. "It's in the moon, the stars, and the clouds, in the freedom."

"You want to be a pilot don't you?" she grins.

"Yes, ma'am, I do. Not quite sure how I'm gonna do it, but I'll die tryin'," he winks at her with a broad grin and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Have ya got anything to write with?" she blushes, first at the question, and then when she realizes she started to mirror his speech pattern.

He laughs, and pulls a pad of paper out of his duffel bag. "Thank ya, Bridgette," he smiles and hands it to her.

She writes down her address and when she hands it to him neither one pulls their hands away. They just smile at each other for awhile, until Bridgette realizes what's going on and retracts her hand.

He looks at his watch with a sigh, "I do suppose I ought ta head out. It was very nice talkin' ta ya ma'am, and I'll look forward ta hearin' from ya." He takes his feet out of the water and starts tying his shoes.

"Oh, um, well, it was very nice meeting you," she stammers and when he gets up she does too. He starts to walk off, but she says, "Wait! I don't know where you're stationed." She gets red in the face again but doesn't look away.

He smiles, "Naval Air Facility El Centro, California," he starts to leave again

"That's so far away," her face falls and she grabs his arm.

"Yes, ma'am?" he smirks down at her, and moves closer to her.

"Oh, um," she looks away and plants a quick peck on his cheek, "travel safe."

"Thank you," he says with a smile and walks off for the final time.

She sighs at seeing him leave and she doesn't know why. After all, she just met him, and surely she barely knew him. But she felt like he knew her better than anyone else, and she looked forward to that first letter very much. She realizes her parents are probably worried, she was going to be two hours late after all.

"Bridgette, where were you?" her mother asks, voice leaden with worry, the second she walks in. Upon seeing her daughter's smile Elizabeth Verdant grins, and in a sing-song voice asks, "Were you with Pi?"

"No," she says with a deep exhale and a look of realization and relaxation, "and I don't think I ever can be again." She looks at her mother with relief.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"I met someone at the café," she explains sheepishly and looks away.

"Um, honey-"

"I know that's not long, but he just looked so down," and she blushed and mutters the next part, "and handsome in that uniform." She looks at her mother expectantly.

"Uniform? Does he go to Buckley Day? Wouldn't that make him a little young for you?" she asks, very confused by this turn of events.

"Buckley? No, he's joining the Navy," she says, surprised that her mother would think that.

"Navy? What was someone from Corpus Christi doing all the way up here? And why would you talk to him? He's too old for you I'm sure," she is very surprised by her daughter's actions.

"He was on his way to a Naval Base in California. No, no, I think he's eighteen."

"You _think _he's eighteen! Why wouldn't you ask?" she demands.

Bridgette averts her eyes from her mother, tears welling up. She's already missing him, and now her mother is disappointed in her. "I-I just, I really like him, and i-it didn't seem important."

"Bridgette you don't _know_ him. What if he's not as nice as he seems and something happens?" her mother scolds.

Bridgette looked up with an unexpected bout of courage, "I'm never gonna hold the hand of another guy."

Her mother shook her head, but decided not to say anything. After all, Bridgette said he was going to be in California and she was a smart enough girl to tell someone if it turned out he was lying.


End file.
